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The only thing worse
Than pulling the trigger
Is spending your entire Life
With a barrel on your mouth
Just waiting for that 'bang'
P.s. This is not a poem about suicide. It's about expectations. About living with a heavy burden and never being able to set free of it.
Empires have fallen
For a beauty lesser
Than yours
Helen of Troy would pale by your side
My childhood was
Fu**ed up in a way that
I can hardly feel anything
So now I keep on playing
The character I've created
In a futile attempt to fill
Such endless void
Will I ever get to see colours again...?
Hold my beer
While I get some whisky
And become a stranger to
Everyone I've ever known
I swear to God I'll never drink again...
My body is broken
But doesn't really matter
How badly beat up I get
My soul still wants
To pick a fight

I guess we fighters
Are just made like that
We never really know
When and how to quit
We're too **** tough
For our own good

We just want that fire
So we keep pushing
On and forward
Forward and on
Wonder where it'll lead us...
I long for home
Though I'm not sure
Where home is anymore
It's exhausting not knowing where you belong...
How I deeply wish that
You could see yourself
The way I do
For it's quite a view
To my wife... how can a person so beautiful have such a terrible self esteem?
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